英文原版:
With proud thanksgiving,a mother for her children,
England mourns for herdead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh theywere, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause ofthe free.
Solemn the drumsthrill: Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up intoimmortal spheres.
There is a music in themidst of desolation
And a glory that shinesupon our tears.
They went with songs tothe battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, trueof eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncount ered:
They fell with theirfaces to the foe.
They shall grow notold, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not wearythem, nor the years contemn.
At the going down ofthe sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
They mingle not withtheir laughing comrades again;
They sit no more atfamiliar tables at home;
They have no lot in ourlabour of the day-time;
They sleep beyondEngland's foam.
But where our desiresare and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-springthat is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heartof their own land they are known
As the stars are knownto the Night;
As the stars that shallbe bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches uponthe heavenly plain;
As the stars are starryin the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the endthey remain.